


the images they sell are Illusion and Dream

by cloudlesslysky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudlesslysky/pseuds/cloudlesslysky
Summary: Harry's starts dreaming about Malfoy all of a sudden. And slowly but surely, the dreams become progressively more... sexual.





	the images they sell are Illusion and Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Illusion & Dream" by Poets of the Fall.
> 
> Beta read for spelling, grammar, and punctuation by the lovely [Alesia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesia) and [Obaewankenope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil), but any possibly remaining mistakes are still my own!

Harry dreams.

It's not an especially exciting dream, all things considered.

He wanders through the long sprawling hallways of Hogwarts, passing by portrait after portrait... Except they're all still, and their faces indistinct.

He walks and walks and walks for what seems like _hours_. But no matter how far he walks, no matter if he runs, no matter how he shouts... It's all just empty hallways with silent and unmoving portraits.

What started as uneventful is becoming creepy; creepy and extremely lonely.

And then suddenly, he finally manages to reach the Great Hall.

At first it seems as empty as the hallways, but as he looks around, Harry catches the sight of another human being.

They have their back to Harry, but he would know that frame, would recognise that shade of blond, anywhere at any time.

Draco Malfoy turns around then, and Harry suddenly finds himself much closer, just as the other boy sneers at him.

" _Potter."_

Harry wakes up.

Early morning light filters in through the window as Harry twists in his bed, trying to reach his glasses on the nightstand. He can still hear Seamus snoring nearby, and the heavy breathing of his other sleeping roommates.

As soon as he's managed to put his glasses on, he grabs his wand and casts a quick tempus to check the time.

5.30 am.

Harry groans and returns both his glasses and his wand to the nightstand.

Sod this, he's not getting up before 6 am. Absolutely not.

With a grumble he turns to his side and pulls his covers up so high they almost cover his face entirely.

He falls back asleep in mere seconds.

The next time Harry wakes up it's to Ron shaking his shoulder.

"Come on, mate. Time to get up unless you wanna miss breakfast."

Harry grumbles, but sits up and rubs his scalp as he yawns widely.

"You okay, Harry? You look kinda out of it," Ron says, face scrunched up in a frown.

Harry just shakes his head. "I'm fine, Ron. I just had a weird dream, woke me up early... And I always get kinda groggy when I fall back asleep like that." He gets to his feet and stretches slightly.

Ron ambles over to his trunk and starts pulling off his sleep shirt.

"Yeah? What'd you dream about?" His voice is slightly muffled by his shirt as he tries to pull it over his head, but gets stuck—just like every morning.

Harry smiles briefly before he frowns, remembering his dream.

"I was walking through Hogwarts, but none of the portraits were moving, and there was no one else there." He pauses and starts unbuttoning his pyjama shirt. "And the corridors seemed nearly endless, until I finally reached the Great Hall."

"That's creepy, mate." Ron's finally gotten the shirt off.

"It was, yeah. But in the Great Hall, I found Malfoy. But he just turned around and sneered at me. That's when I woke up."

Ron lets out a loud burst of laughter.

"Seeing Malfoy sneer would scare anyone out of their dream with that pointy face of his." Ron's grin is wicked, and Harry quickly joins him in laughing.

The dream is quickly forgotten.

  


* * *

  


Harry's walking through Hogwarts again. It's still empty, but this time the portraits are moving around—still not saying anything though.

He frowns and tries to find his way to the Great Hall, but he keeps getting turned around and finding weird dead ends. In fact, the layout is very different from the _real_ Hogwarts. Harry knows his way around that easily. Doesn't he? Maybe this _is_ the real Hogwarts and Harry's just getting lost?

Finally he finds himself outside the Room of Requirement, except the door is already there. He stares at it for a while, unsure of what he should do. Maybe it's a trap? Or maybe it's not the Room of Requirement at all.

Steeling himself, Harry pushes the door open gently and glances inside.

It looks like a bedroom. A very large, very ornate bedroom.

In the middle of the room is a large four-poster bed, with a tester decked out with gold and posh looking green curtains hanging from it. It's the most expensive looking bed Harry has ever seen in his life.

He frowns and looks around the Room, trying to see who could have conjured a room like this, when suddenly a door to Harry's right opens and out steps...

Malfoy.

He looks down his nose at Harry the way he always does, and Harry finds himself flush with anger, trying to restrain the urge to punch the stupid twat right in the face.

Malfoy just quirks an eyebrow and gives Harry the most condescending look he's ever seen in his life.

"Potter," he sneers as he moves past Harry without looking back. Instead he moves to the large bed and...

Harry feels his eyes widen almost painfully as Malfoy unclasps his cloak and lets it fall to the floor, leaving him in just his expensive looking robes.

When Harry sees Malfoy's hands move to the buttons on his robes... he turns around and flees the room entirely.

He wakes up instantly, and stares at the panel above his own four-poster—much smaller than the one he'd seen in his dream—as his heart hammers away in his chest.

His mouth is dry as a desert as he tries to swallow around his shallow breathing.

What the _hell_ was that?

Why would he dream about... about... about _Malfoy_.And not just that... Why would he dream about Malfoy _taking his clothes off?_

That doesn't make any sense! He must have eaten something bad at last night’s dinner, he has no idea why else he'd have such a weird dream. He squirms slights and turns on his side, trying to fall back asleep.

He won't be telling Ron about this one.

  


* * *

  


Malfoy is naked.

He's sitting on the large four-poster with the lush green drapes, his knees drawn to his chest, and entirely naked. His pale skin seems to almost glow against the dark of the bed sheet and Harry finds himself hopelessly transfixed.

He stands and stares, unmoving, even as Malfoy leans back on his hands and stretches his long—so so long—slender legs out on the bed.

The only thing Harry can hear is his own breathing as he stands stock still, watching as his school rival stretches and... and... _poses_ on the bed in front of him. It's barmy, he should run in the other direction... But he can't.

He _wants_ to see.

And then Malfoy turns his head and looks over his shoulder at Harry. His mouth twists into that smug and unfairly attractive smile of his.

" _Potter._ "

Harry wakes up instantly.

Unlike after the other dreams, he's _hard_.

He scrubs a hand across his face and tries to breathe calmly.

He just dreamt of Draco Malfoy sitting naked on a bed, and he's _hard_ at the sight of it.

It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense at all.

He _knows_ that Malfoy is attractive, in an abstract sort of sense—the same way you know a film star is attractive—but he's never... never... He's never wanted to _watch him_ before. It feels entirely out of character. Of course, Harry thinks, if you're thinking your own actions and reactions are out of character, maybe that's a sign that you're losing your mind?

He shudders and turns on his side, squeezing his eyes shut.

Maybe if he falls back asleep he'll forget about it entirely—even if he hasn't done that any of the other times.

He can hope, can't he?

  


* * *

  


"Potter..." Malfoy is still looking over his shoulder with that damn smile on his lips. He lifts one hand and makes a small "come here" gesture with his finger, and Harry finds himself hopelessly drawn forward.

He stops right at the side of the bed, looking down at the entirely naked Malfoy, suddenly acutely aware that he's fully dressed himself.

Malfoy shamelessly lies down on his back and spreads out with what seems like miles upon miles and pale flesh. He's not especially hairy, and what hair there is is mostly the same pale white-ish shade as his hair.

Harry's never wanted to touch another boy before... But he hasn't really wanted to touch _anyone_ else before. Not even Cho.

He thought she was beautiful, he wanted her... But not...

"Potter... _Touch_ me..." Malfoy's voice is a low rumble, and Harry feels it shuddering through him.

He wakes up.

He turns over on his side, ignores his straining erection and tries desperately to think about something else. Tries desperately to fall back asleep.

  


* * *

  


Harry touches him. Watches the contrast of his own tan hand against the pale skin of Malfoy's chest. Watches as a shudder runs through Malfoy's slim frame and his mouth drops open.

He moves his hands over Malfoy's chest, skims over a pink nipple and startles at the moaning sound Malfoy lets out at the contact.

Malfoy's eyes are luminous in his pale face.

"Potter..."

Harry wakes up.

  


* * *

  


He's just as naked as Malfoy is.

They're skin against skin, pressed together.

Malfoy pulls his glasses off, but Harry can still see him perfectly.

Malfoy has a few pale smattering of freckles across his nose—like stars.

"Potter... Kiss me."

Harry wakes up.

  


* * *

  


They kiss and kiss and kiss.

Harry presses Malfoy into the bed, covering him with his own body as much as he can, rubs their bodies together and kisses him over and over.

He never wants to stop.

Never wants to do anything else.

He just wants to keep touching Malfoy and look at him, drink him in... Watch as his strangely-luminous eyes grow hazy with lust and pleasure.

"Harry..."

Harry wakes up again.

  


* * *

  


Harry doesn't know what to do about the dreams. Over and over he dreams about snogging Malfoy while they're naked in a bed. Over and over he dreams of... having _sex_ with Malfoy.

He feels restless, uncertain, and like he doesn't fit inside his own skin.

He watches Malfoy during the days, as covertly as he can. He wants to know how accurate his dreams are.

Not very, he thinks, they couldn't possibly be. But he... he wants to know.

When Ron and Hermione finally confront him about his weird behaviour—he knows he's been behaving weirdly, he hasn't even managed to antagonise that utter cow Umbridge as much as he used to, he thinks she thinks she's broken him—he mutters something about thinking he might like girls _and_ boys. It's... it's true, after all, even if it's not what's actually causing his distress.

Hermione starts in on a speech about how she doesn't care, she loves him for _him_ regardless of his sexuality. Ron just looks confused and asks him if that's a big thing with muggles.

Which is how Harry and Hermione find out that wizards don't really have sexuality labels because they don't divide people on something like that.

"Mostly witches marry wizards and vice versa, but sometimes they don't. Sometimes witches marry witches and wizards wizards. The law just says you need two consenting parties over the age of majority as far as I know." Ron says with a shrug when they grill him on it. Then he says something about Charlie first moving to Romania to be with his boyfriend, though apparently they're not together anymore.

It _does_ make Harry feel better about it, even though it wasn't the main thing he was dealing with. The Dursleys have always been... As they are, about things they consider different. And considering Dudley's snide remark about Cedric...

Well, he has no doubt where they stand on the issue, is all Harry's got to say about it.

That his friends are being so supportive just makes him feel _worse_ about not telling them the whole truth though.

But it's... it's _Malfoy._ How _can_ he tell them that he's having wet dreams about him? They'd be horrified and possibly even angry! Harry knows _he's_ horrified and _wants_ to be angry about it.

Still... it's not _that_ bad, is it?

Malfoy is really pretty, and it's not like anything's going to come from it anyway. He can just enjoy the dreams for what they are: wet dreams about a good-looking bloke Harry would much rather punch than snog in real life, but will happily wank over in a dream.

He feels better when he finally settles on that. There's no point in feeling weird and guilty about it, because they're just dreams.

Not to mention, Malfoy's not going to try to touch him in real life within a million years, so what's the harm in a bit of fantasising?

He could do with some good dreams, all things considered. Especially since the other option seems to be dreams that make him relive Cedric's death and Voldemort's return.

No, he much prefers dreaming of sex with Malfoy.

Even though Malfoy is a bloody jerk with a Death Eater father.

  


* * *

  


"Lucius... How good of you to join me." The Dark Lord's voice is deceptively mild.

Lucius suppresses a shudder. "Of course, my Lord. I came as quickly as I could." He bows as he speaks, even as he feels cold sweat break out at the back of his neck. A private audience with the Dark Lord is never a good sign. At least he's not likely to meet an untimely death; the Dark Lord far prefers to do his _executions_ in front of witnesses, to make sure the message hits its mark.

Not that Lucius has any plans of failing his Lord enough to ever give cause for it.

"I'm sure you will be happy to hear that I have... Come across, shall we say, some information that will aid our cause immensely."

Lucius freezes. "My Lord?" He doesn't know what the Dark Lord's game is. He _should_ be pleased that he's being taken into the Dark Lord's confidence, a sign of his return to high status among his followers... But Lucius's instincts are screaming at him that something about this is wrong.

Whatever this information is, he's not going to like it.

"I know how we can lure Harry Potter to the Department of Mysteries." Smiles look entirely wrong on the Dark Lord's face these days. During the first war, the Dark Lord had been a handsome and charismatic man. Not so much now. The snake-like appearance, the pallor, the lack of a nose... it's grotesque more than anything else.

"How, my Lord? Is there anything I can do?" Lucius glances nervously at Nagini where she lies coiled at the Dark Lord's feet. He wonders if her calm appearance is a front and she's instead ready to strike at any second. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

"Not you, Lucius. Your son. Young Draco." The Dark Lord nearly _purrs_ Draco's name, and Lucius feels cold dread choke him.

"Draco?" He fights to keep his voice steady, his appearance calm and unbothered. "What can he do?"

The Dark Lord laughs. It's not a happy nor an especially pleasant laugh.

"I have seen Potter's dreams, Lucius."

Lucius swallows. He's heard the rumours of course, about the Dark Lord's connection to Potter's mind, but no one has known the truth for sure. Not until now.

"I have seen them... And he lusts, Lucius."

Lucius very nearly visibly cringes at that. He does not want to consider a fifteen year-old's lusts, nor does he want to think of a fifteen year-old in a sexual capacity. While he's done a good job of divorcing Potter from the concept of a child, Lucius still knows that he is one. He wants _nothing_ to do with Potter's lusts.

"He _hungers_ for your son, Lucius. Night after he night he dreams of him, naked and spread out beneath him." The Dark Lord chuckles again. "I have no doubt that if Draco put his mind to it, he could seduce Potter in a heartbeat. Seduce him, and have him too busy thinking with his nether regions to consider just what it may be Draco's asking of him."

Oh Merlin, no.

Lucius doesn't so much as blink, but the sheer glee the Dark Lord describes Potter's dreams with, as if he's _enjoyed_ watching them... Whether or not that enjoyment is sexual is irrelevant.

He has enjoyed watching Potter's dreams of fornicating with Lucius's son... and he wants Draco to whore himself out to get a hold of that prophecy.

"Are you certain, my Lord? Potter and my son have had a very... antagonistic relationship since their first year. Even if Potter lusts after my son, I doubt he'll be willing to overlook their past to... Make his dreams a reality."

Lucius wants to leave. He wants to get out of here, get as far away from here as possible.

The Dark Lord only laughs again.

"He's a teenager, Lucius. A young, foolish, _horny_ teenager." The smile on his face is horrific. "Bring him home over the winter holidays. I'll give him his mission then. And who knows, Lucius, if he performs well enough... I may even honour him with the Dark Mark."

"Yes, my Lord." Lucius bows and leaves the room.

Merlin, Salazar, Circe.

His son. His _son._

Were he not still among Death Eaters, Lucius would weep.


End file.
